Vivaldi
by Katowisp
Summary: Four seaons, in the lives of the Saiyuki boys. Hakkai is Spring, the death of winter. Previously Shunkashuutou. Finally finished.
1. Summer

Hey, everyone! This is just a short, four-chapter character centered piece I'm doing. ATD is by no means forgotten, and I'm writing away hurriedly on that! I've realized some things too, though, which is half why it's taking longer to get out.  
  
This is also a 'Thank You' for more then fifty reviews. I love all you guys for staying behind me and offering encouragement and suggestions. So I wrote this so each of you would have a focus on your favorite character for at least one chapter ^^  
  
I hope you like it!  
  
Disclaimers: I do not own them. Still.  
  
Shunkashuutou  
Summer  
  
He was lounging in the back seat, one leg hanging over the side of the jeep. To the right of them were rolling hills of lush grass, dotted wild flowers. Parallel on their right was a river that had been running along beside the road for so long now that it had almost become another companion. There were more towns now, because sources of waters always attracted civilization. They were good towns—thriving and prosperous. They were young, filled with young women in their prime, with dozens of children rushing out to greet the visitors in the green jeep as soon as they rolled into town. The river was being used, but it was still clean and new. The banks were green and bountiful, and more than one tree threatened to fall into the shallow river. They wouldn't fall for a while yet. Someday, but not yet.  
  
It was a clean river, glittering continuously as the rays of the sun touched the surface, breaking the river into thousands of sapphires. At night when the moon rose, the river became molten silver, and he longed to touch it. To cup his hands around the water and bring it to his lips, certain that somehow the properties of the water changed by the night.  
  
It was hot, but not oppressively so. It wasn't late summer yet, so the heat hadn't set in. The river managed to keep things somewhat cooler, too. Today there was a strong breeze. It was enough to keep things comfortable if they stopped, but otherwise drowned out by the wind that flew past them as they drove.  
  
They'd been driving a long time.  
  
He was hungry.  
  
He was always hungry, though. So that didn't matter so much. He had begun to wonder if it was a hunger that could be appeased by food—he was beginning to suspect it wasn't. He could feel other things in him changing, feelings and ideas. How he thought of the monk.  
  
Gold eyes flitting to the monk, he didn't allow his gaze to stay too long. He was too anxious, too uncertain. He called him his sun, and it was true. Sanzo couldn't understand it, couldn't understand why he followed him everywhere. To Goku's way of thinking, a lifetime of following his savior would small repayment for being freed. And when Sanzo left this world, he would follow him there, too. Not because he couldn't live without him, but because he knew he would be needed there. Even if Sanzo didn't know.  
  
But that was in the future, somewhere far away. Today was today, and would last forever. Summer days always did. It continuously amazed him when the days began to grow shorter, the breeze a little colder. He would watch in horrified awe as the trees turned, and the leaves fell. How could it be fall already? If summer lasted forever, how could it end?  
  
He sighed, eyes closing. He was jolted out of his thinking roughly by a kick from his seatmate. Sitting up abruptly, he glared at Gojyo. Their fights were almost routine, and they always ended the same—with a smack from the fan or death threats and a pointed gun. But to stop would be to change, and in his life, where nothing stayed the same, small things like this were comforts.  
  
"Gojyo! What the hell was that for, you stupid water kappa!?"  
  
"You were taking up too much space!"  
  
"I wasn't, you're the one stretched out all over the place!"  
  
"I can't help if I have longer legs than you, you midget monkey!"  
  
"Shut up!" Sanzo turned rapidly, hitting both of them across the head with the cursed fan. He hadn't had it in the beginning; it was an accessory picked up after he realized how loud and whiny the boy was. Both glaring at Sanzo, and then at each other, Gojyo gave Goku another nudge once the monk turned around. Not wanting to be without the last say, Goku nudged him back, this time a little harder. Within moments there were fighting again, the nudges escalating into rough, but playful shoves.  
  
"Dammit, I said shut up!" Sanzo turned again, this time firing the gun between them. It was always something of an amazement that he'd never hit either of them. Settling down against almost instantly, Goku knew their bickering would cease, at least for the next few minutes. Both of them were wary of the gun, even if they knew they didn't have to be. Despite countless times of it only being waved at them threateningly, bullets flying past their ears, it was still a gun and they had both seen it kill scores of demons.  
  
"Maybe we should stop for lunch?" Hakkai's voice, always pleasant and agreeable.  
  
"Yeah!" Leaning forward, Goku looked anxiously at the two in the front. They always had the say in matters, rarely Gojyo and never was he aloud to make decisions for the group.  
  
"Whatever."  
  
What started as lunch slowly stretched into an afternoon. They rested under an old beech tree, and the sunlight that filtered through was a hazy, diluted green. When the breeze blew, the branches rustled and the leaves whispered of other summer days, and other travelers, and fishers who had stopped here last week, last summer, the summer before that, and of all the endless summers before that.  
  
They didn't have much to eat—they never did. There was too much rationing that had to take place for them to be gluttons, a fact that Goku regretted.  
  
He had grown taller recently, and they hadn't been able to buy new pants yet so he now wore high waters. He'd undergone a few other clothes changes, had gotten rid of the clasps around the ankles. He wouldn't get rid of the bands on his wrists for a long time. He had changed them from the gaudy things they'd been for more streamlined, maroon ones, but he couldn't get rid of them. He'd had them for five hundred years already.  
  
When Sanzo had first taken him to get his clothes for traveling in what now seemed like years ago, he'd chosen the gaudy, mismatched outfit not only because it looked cool (and it did, contrary to what the monk said.) but for other reasons, too. The shoulder claws were a great defense ("You're just trying to make yourself look bigger, monkey. It's not going to fool anybody.") and the loose shirt helped keep things cooler, which worked to his advantage when they were in the desert, and in the summer, but was a poor insulation against the snow and colder months.  
  
But winter was a long way off now, and today it was summer.  
  
He'd seen the design for the red tunic in an old Buddhist tome he'd been rifling through one time when waiting for Sanzo to get back from another of his meetings with those creepy floating heads. He didn't know what the symbol meant, but he knew he had to have it. There was something about it that seemed important to him, and he had convinced Sanzo to take him to a merchant who could put designs like that on clothing. It had cost more than a plain red tunic would have, but Sanzo had paid it anyway, and strangely enough, without saying a thing.  
  
The bands had been the most important though, and it would be a long time before he could shed them. "You're free," Sanzo had said, posing indifference as Goku had chosen the accessories.  
  
"I know."  
  
And Sanzo hadn't asked why, or belittled him. Sometimes, he just knew about those sorts of things.  
  
Goku sprawled across the grass under the tree, enjoying the moist, green blades that bent and molded to his body as he rested. Sanzo and Hakkai were talking quietly a little ways away, and Gojyo was standing on one of the moldy rocks next to the river, his hands shoved in his pockets and a long blade of grass dangling from his teeth. The calm was shattered the next moment when Gojyo suddenly lost his footing. For one long moment he was on the rock, his arms quickly pulled from his pockets and spiraling wildly, trying to regain his balance. It was a futile effort though, the moment ended and he fell with a shout, arms still wheeling in huge circles. His splash managed to soak both Hakkai and Sanzo, and Gojyo was met with a cold glare when he resurfaced seconds later. The redhead smiled though, because Hakkai was laughing.  
  
When Hakkai laughed, /em laughed, it lifted the soul, if just a little. And to do anything at all to actually make him laugh, even if caused a little embarrassment, was always worth it. Even Sanzo looked slightly less irritated.  
  
So they ended up staying the rest of the day, letting their clothes dry. Sanzo didn't mind, even seemed to relax a little. The afternoon stretched on forever, and entirely too soon was the sun setting. The sky became a myriad of red and blues and purples, and the few clouds that had graced the sky that day were now rosy wisps.  
  
It was dusk, than night, and the stars came out. Hakkai pointed out the constellations, and Gojyo and Sanzo were both smoking cigarettes, the smoke trails spiraling up into the tree branches above them. They set up their bedrolls, but none of them were tired yet. Around them the fireflies rose, and danced in their lazy swirls. Goku caught one in his hands, and held it to his face, the small insect glowing in his cupped hands. Wandering around over his fingers for a while, the bug apparently grew bored, or maybe anxious. It only had one night to live, and its mate wasn't to be found in Goku's hands. Lifting its wings, it took flight, and in moments it had become just another of one of the numerous flashing spots of light.  
  
Laying back on his bedroll with his arms behind him, Goku watched the stars for a moment longer before his eyes shifted to the others. Gojyo and Hakkai were talking now, down by the river. Sometimes Hakkai laughed, and then Gojyo would laugh too. Looking farther up, he saw Sanzo, also watching Hakkai and Gojyo. A cigarette was held loosely in his fingers and sometimes he would lift it to his mouth and blow the smoke out. Violet eyes shifted, and their eyes met. Goku looked away first.  
  
Maybe one day he would tell him.  
  
Maybe tomorrow.  
  
But first tonight would have to end.  
  
End Summer  
  
A/N: The design on Goku's shirt matches that of the design on his tattoo when he takes on his demon form. (As least in the manga.)  
  
Okay, I hope everyone likes this chapter! The next one should be up soon. Thanks, everyone!! 


	2. Autumn

Dedicated to Aki! A great betaer, after me to learn the English language XD (Even though it's my native language...I should really pay more attention to detail!)  
  
This is also dedicated to all of you. Thanks so much for sticking with me even though I take ten million years to update! Also, please look forward to side stories!  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine. No. Not at all.  
  
Autumn  
  
The nights came earlier now. The days were growing colder and colder progressively, but it was gradual and the air still carried the smell of summer. Still, summer was rapidly becoming only a memory; something to hold onto when it was so bitterly cold that it seemed the world had always been that way, and that it would never be warm again. But it wasn't winter yet, and they still had time. The leaves were turning, and as they drove west the trees began to match the color of the setting sun.  
  
Fall was filled with red.  
  
It was a color that he had hated for a long time, and still hated, to a certain extent. It reminded him of who he was, and what he despised about himself. But each day brought him further and further away from his mother, and the old wounds were just that. One day he would wake up and he would hate the color only because it was used to it, and he would hate his hair and his eyes only because he always had.  
  
When they got off at the next town the sun was low in the sky. The sky had been blue all day, and now the sun was alone as it sunk into the horizon. The sky to the East was already darker. Only the brightest of the stars shone though they paled next to the huge, round, harvest moon that was rising. It was so low in the sky that it was truly a morbidly dark red. It wouldn't stay that way—the higher into the sky it rose, the more it would pale out, becoming a dark orange, and then a pale orange, until it had drained itself of anything but the painfully bright silver.  
  
As the outside world became darker, the lights of the homes and the taverns lit up. The little yellow squares and balls urged them on, welcoming them.  
  
There would be women inside, and he'd take one of them to bed if he had his own room, or he'd play cards late into the night with the others. Except Sanzo would go to sleep early, and Goku would lose all his chips, or follow after the monk, and then it would just be he and Hakkai. Somewhere along the way, he'd decided that playing cards was more fun than staying with some woman. They were always the same, beautiful and young. They were always noisy and clingy, and some were experienced, and some weren't. In the morning he would leave, and some would cry, and some wouldn't. But recently he hadn't wanted to stay the night, and had left after they were through.  
  
He had spent a lot of time with Hakkai over the years, but he had never thought about it. They'd been playing cards; Hakkai had just won the hand with a pair of Aces (he was always good at telling whether or not Gojyo was bluffing. It was as if he had spent so much time lying that he knew when to tell when other people were, too.) and Gojyo was putting down the ante for the next hand. They always played with chips but rarely for real money. The cards were well worn, and they would probably have to buy new ones soon. But he had had these cards for a long time, and it would be odd to stop playing with them. He had a ridiculous feeling that all his luck had seeped into the cards long ago, and that if he were to throw them away he would throw his luck away.  
  
"We've played cards for a long time." Gojyo had suddenly realized it, as he set down the worn wooden chip. It had once been white, but it had faded to a dirty gray and the little ridges that had been notched into the thin sides were smoothed. Most days Gojyo forgot that they'd ever had ridges. It seemed that the chips had always been worn, and though he was sure there was a time in the beginning that they hadn't been, it seemed almost ridiculous to think that.  
  
"Aa, we have." Hakkai had picked up his cards and was looking over them, his face as absent of emotion as always, save for that damn slight smile. They were playing Texas Hold 'Em. Next would be Iron Cross. It was the style that varied, never the game.  
  
And that's all that they'd said about that, the conversation moving onto more mundane things.  
  
They played late into the night, which wasn't so unusual. The inn had fallen silent, the proprietors having thrown out the last of the drunks in the bar downstairs an hour or so ago. Every sound in the room was magnified, from the laying of the cards to the 'tch' Gojyo made every time he lost a hand. The old inn settled around them, various boards creaking occasionally. Sometimes it sounded as if footsteps were coming down the hall, and they would both pause, straining to hear. The footsteps would disappear before they reached the door, and Gojyo eventually concluded it was a ghost. He considered mentioning it, but he knew Hakkai's eyes would become unfocused, and he would be lost for a moment. The rest of the game would be spent in silence, and Hakkai would win the hand, but there would be no joy in it.  
  
They both had ghosts, but Hakkai had an army of them.  
  
Finally there was a mutual agreement to end the game for the night. The game itself never really ended, it was just put on a hold. They never kept track of all the wins and losses, though Hakkai would be grossly in the lead if they did. The chips switched hands back and forth on an even enough basis that neither of them was ever in the red for too long.  
  
Gojyo liked these late night card games, because as the games wore on, the fake smile on Hakkai's face would wilt a little. Sometimes with enough alcohol in him, he would talk a little more freely. They had been friends for so long, but sometimes Gojyo got the feeling that he knew all –about- Hakkai, but that he didn't know -him.- The man was obsessive about keeping his secrets, which was fine, he supposed, but aggravating. The whole group was that way, except for the boy.  
  
"I think...Goku has secrets," Hakkai had said thoughtfully after Gojyo asked as they were packing up the cards. "But I think his secrets are secrets to him as well."  
  
Gojyo snorted. "How the hell does that work out?"  
  
Hakkai had changed the topic though, his only answer to Gojyo's question being the slightest of shrugs.  
  
The morning was cool, and it was late enough in the fall that the light was beginning to take on that pale, filtered look that continued all through the winter. They spent the morning shopping in the small town; Goku went after Sanzo, begging for meat buns at all the stalls they came across. Hakkai was urging the monk to stop and buy gloves and hats, because all the farmers were saying it was going to be a particularly rough winter.  
  
On their journey, that had stopped in towns and cities of all types. They had traveled across the desert, and over mountains. Most of the places they stopped in were pathetic: barren streets with broken houses that had never seen better days. They all had their hard knock story, and always they thought that somehow Sanzo could save them from their despair. People had offered their girls, barely of age. Sobbing women pushed children, crippled and twisted with disease. Mothers with pale faces would silently offer their babies. "Please, just take him out of here."  
  
This town hadn't done that yet. It was a small but thriving place tucked into the hills. There was a large apple orchard just south of the city, and many of the merchants were selling them now. Goku's eyes were wide as he took in all the sights. He had never seen so many recipes made from apples before. And he wanted to try all of them.  
  
The air smelled of apples, and of leaves. It wasn't that musty, decomposing smell that leaves took on in the summer after sitting on the forest floor for too long. It was crisp and clean, and when the leaves fell, they were pulled off the trees in a shower. It wouldn't be long until they dried, becoming husks that scraped across the ground. By November the trees would be barren, and only some leaves would still be clinging to the branches, refusing to let go.  
  
The air was almost chilly as it blew past them in the jeep. They were a few hours into the ride when they came across another apple orchard. This one stood by itself, the grass high around the twisted trees. There was a house near the front of the road. It was just another farmhouse, though in its day it had been decently sized. Hakkai slowed as they reached the house. It was odd that it stood here by itself, with no other houses or signs of civilization for miles. Driving up close to it, the jeep slowly came to a stop. Goku jumped over the side before they had even stopped. It was obvious he had been restless, and he set off for a run to the apple orchard before the others climbed out.  
  
"Look, you guys! Apples!" His voice carried over the air as he looked to the others. He had scurried up into one tree and was eating one apple as he reached for more. Sanzo shook his head.  
  
"Idiot, you didn't even wash them." But his voice was quiet, and didn't reach the boy, and Gojyo realized the insult didn't carry too much of its regular bite. Hakkai simply laughed, and turned to the others.  
  
"I think it would be okay to stop here for a few minutes." Hakkai said cheerfully as he pulled out a blanket from the jeep. They hadn't really eaten yet, and so he pulled out food as well, setting it up.  
  
"What's this? A picnic?" Sanzo looked somewhat surprised and irritated by the fact. As the days grew shorter, he pushed them harder. They didn't have much daylight, and that meant not as much driving time.  
  
"Goku's getting apples." Hakkai said, as if that explained why they had to stop. Sanzo looked back at the boy, and seemed about to say something before stopping himself. With a look of aggravation, he settled down on the blanket. "Goku, lunch is ready!" Hakkai called, bringing his hand to cup against the side of his mouth. Goku had moved to another tree, an apple clamped down in his teeth as he pulled down the ripest apples and dropped them into a growing pile. Looking up at Hakkai's call, Goku's eyes brightened, and he quickly jumped from the tree and grabbed as many as he could hold in both his arms. Excited about the prospect of food, he ran back across the field to where the other two were.  
  
"Look! Hakkai, you can make all those desserts and stuff now, too!"  
  
"I can!" Hakkai agreed enthusiastically, green eyes following Goku as he dropped all the apples down. They were almost round, mostly pale reds fading into yellow, and when Gojyo tried one he was surprised to find that they were better than most other apples he'd ever had.  
  
"They're probably all wormy." Is what he said, though. Goku shot him a look and it was obvious the two were about to get into a fight when Sanzo broke it easily.  
  
"You start something and I'll kill you both."  
  
They spent longer than they meant in that field. Goku finished lunch quickly, and bound off to climb the apple trees again. Gojyo realized that it wasn't just about picking the apples; it was about climbing the trees, too. He had remembered doing that as a child, but somewhere along the way climbing had become tedious and messy, and he had become too tall.  
  
There were some things Gojyo hoped Goku would never grow out of.  
  
Hakkai decided that the old house used to have been some sort of bed and breakfast. There was a skeleton of where a sign had used to hang that might have proven him right All that was left though were rusted chains, flakey and orange, hanging from a splintered wooden post.  
  
The breeze had picked up as the afternoon wore on, and when they finally clambered back into the Jeep, the ride had become down right chilly. Hakkai almost looked smug as they pulled out the gloves and hats he had insisted on buying earlier in the day.  
  
The sun was already becoming a glorious orange again, and it would be red before it settled into that distant horizon. Sometimes Gojyo wondered if they would ever actually get to their destination, or if they would continue chasing the sun for the rest of their lives.  
  
Beside him Goku was eating another apple, and he knew they'd all be eating apples for a long time. Settling into his position in the back seat, Gojyo put his leg up on the seat in front of him and crossed his arms.  
  
There were worse things he could do with his life then this insane journey.  
  
End~  
  
Okay, that's Gojyo's story! I loved it writing it, so I hope you all like it.... 


	3. Winter

A/N: I forgot I didn't post this! X.x Disclaimers: You know the drill. Do lawyers actually rake through ff.net, looking for people who don't put up disclaimers? Hmm, I wonder.  
  
Winter  
  
The snow was coming hard. It was a mass of white in a constant drive against them. It was a fight to keep going. The wind was insistent, pushing them back with every step they took. It ripped at their cloaks and clothes. No matter how many layers they'd put on, the wind bit through into the skin.  
  
He was leading them forward, fighting the snow with each step. He was alone. Somewhere along the way, his companions had ceased to exist. He knew they were there, but it was that abstract knowledge. If he turned, he would be able to make out their dark forms, but if he turned, he would be unable to continue forward.  
  
He was heading towards the light. Before the blizzard had set in, Hakkai had been convinced that they weren't far from the town. "Look, there's the lights, we're not so far." He had worn a smile, his hair and shoulders already dusted in white. So they'd set out. They had to get to the town; they wouldn't be able to survive the night otherwise.  
  
That was years ago. He'd been walking forever now, and the lights were still as far away. Bobbing will o' wisps, calling him forward to the gates of hell. He would go, because he couldn't turn back. And his companions would follow, because they always did. He'd never asked them to, and they'd never offered an explanation. He suspected one day they would give up, when he no longer had any place to lead them. The boy would always be there though, following closely.  
  
He didn't want him. He didn't want any of them. They were burdens, anchors. They dragged him back.  
  
They pushed him forward. It was paradoxical. There were so many times he would've gone ahead by himself, but he couldn't. There were even a couple of times he would've given up, but he couldn't. They wouldn't let him. He wouldn't let him.  
  
If he had known he would've gained a new shadow, would he have freed that boy?  
  
No.  
  
Yes.  
  
Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he took another step. If he stopped now, it would be the end. The cold would win, seeping into his bones. His blood would freeze, his muscles cease to function. He would fall, lips blue and eyes glazed.  
  
But he wouldn't let that happen, because he didn't give up. They were headed West, a journey that had lasted forever. Everything that had happened before was another lifetime, and this whole life he'd been traveling west. And when he reached the end....  
  
....the end. It didn't matter, because it was a forever away.  
  
Just like the lights, mocking him. They were spirits, souls of all the dead he had killed.  
  
Violet eyes narrowed. It was hard to see through the driving snow. It seemed to have always been snowing, and it was hard to remember what the trees looked like with leaves. They were only dark skeletons, standing stiff against the wind. As the storm blew harder twigs snapped off, and then limbs.  
  
The snow stung as it flew against his face. The only sound was the wind, roaring in his ears. He was deaf, and he was blind. He had lost the feeling in his fingers and toes long ago. There was nothing to smell—he was in a chaotic whirlwind of white. He couldn't speak: his voice would be ripped from his lips and stolen into the storm before his companions heard him.  
  
He walked forever, alone in that twisted forest. The trees stretched endlessly, and there was nothing but the storm and the black trees, holding against the wind. His lungs burned, his throat was a searing fire as the cold forced its way into his body.  
  
It was just he and the storm, and that's all it had ever been, he realized.  
  
But then slowly, ever so slowly, the storm lessened. The wind gave up its fight—it was gone first. As the screaming around him stopped, Sanzo realized he could hear the sound of his feet, a soft pluff as they sunk into the snow. Surprised, he stopped. Turning, he saw the other three still there, their dark forms vivid against the snow. They could have been one of the misshapen trees. They ground to a stop as well. Their footsteps were gone, wiped away long ago by the wind and the continuous snow.  
  
He was mildly surprised that they were there.  
  
"Hey, Sanzo! I'm really hungry!" Goku was waving his arm, as if Sanzo somehow wouldn't be able to distinguish his shorter form from the others.  
  
"What do you expect me to do about it, idiot?"  
  
"Damn, I thought it would never end. Frostbite doesn't get any ladies." Gojyo had pulled his hood back, looking slightly disgruntled. His hair had been badly mussed by the wind and cloak, knotted and in disarray.  
  
"Well, at least we're almost there." That was Hakkai. He had also pulled his hood off, a small smile on his face. His monocle reflected the moonlight that had begun to shine as the clouds quickly dispersed. The moon was almost blinding in its luminosity, and his eye was invisible behind the small lenses. It was odd that the storm had stayed for so long, and now went so quickly.  
  
Turning, he found that the town was much closer now. The little houses stood in defiance to the snow; the humans inside them fighting against nature every step of the way. Storms came and went, and these people would live inside these houses, fighting to make their town look civilized. Cleaning up after the summer storms and the fallen leaves of autumn in a perpetual battle. They stood now, windows glowing with a yellow light, serving as welcoming beacons against the night and the cold.  
  
"Looks like they're still open for business," Even Hakkai sounded relieved by this.  
  
"They should always be open for business." Gojyo shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Even with his heavy gloves on, he was still cold.  
  
"Do you think they'll have food ready?" Goku looked anxiously to the others, because food was the most important thing here. He had brushed the hood of his cloak off as well, and Sanzo noticed that his ears had already begun to turn pink from the cold. The boy rubbed at his nose with gloved fingers, trying to restore some warmth to it.  
  
There was an inn open, as Gojyo had said, and there were two rooms open. Sanzo had been about to make everyone sleep in the same room, opening up the second room to himself, but Hakkai had nudged him and motioned to Goku. The boy was looking slightly despondent standing the foyer of the inn, his ears and nose still pink. Sanzo knew of all the seasons, Goku hated winter the most. It hadn't been so long ago that he wouldn't leave the house as long as the ground was covered in the snow. He'd gotten over that, but the stigma stayed with him.  
  
"Gojyo, you and I can room together." Hakkai said it, so Sanzo wouldn't have to. Both Gojyo and Goku looked over in surprise, it was rarely that they weren't roommates. Though, as the journey had stretched on, Gojyo and Hakkai had begun to room together a little more frequently, and so by default that put Goku with Sanzo.  
  
It was good to be back inside, protected from the searing cold outside. Goku followed Sanzo up; his arms filled with food he had managed the innkeeper to give him from the kitchen. A Goku with food usually meant a quiet Goku, so Sanzo was fine handing the gold card over for anything to keep the boy silent. Climbing up the staircase, the steps creaked beneath their weight, the aged wood complaining. The hallway upstairs wasn't much different. The dark wood of the floorboards groaned with almost every step. The wood was polished after years of so many people walking up and down them. The edges were a little darker and a little rougher then the middle of the hallway.  
  
Shoving the key into the lock, Sanzo twisted and the door fell open with a slight creak. There were two beds, piled high with blankets and quilts. The ceiling slanted down on the right where the roof lowered. There were two windows, one between the two beds and one beneath where the ceiling began to slant. Goku plopped down on the bed furthest away from the slanted ceiling.  
  
"No. I'm sleeping there."  
  
"Aww, but Sanzo...! I don't want to sleep with the ceiling all coming down on me."  
  
"Me neither. Move." Goku glared back defiantly for just a moment before pulling himself up off the bed. He switched places with the monk, and settled down on the other bed. The ceiling didn't slant down as badly as he had first thought—it would be okay.  
  
While Goku readied for the night—which simply involved taking off all the outer layers-- Sanzo did the same, stripping out of the heavy—but not heavy enough—cloak. He pulled off the top of his robe revealing the black jump suit beneath it he and then pulled the quilts away from the bed. Watching the boy do the same, he saw Goku climb beneath the covers and automatically curl into a little ball to conserve his body heat until it warmed the covers up. Sanzo made a face—if the boy didn't want to be cold, then he should wear more to bed.  
  
Climbing into his own covers, the sheets rustled coolly over his skin, a whispered touch weighted down by the heavier quilts. He was exhausted; the trek through the snow had drained a lot out of him. They had a long way to go yet, and the spring would be a long time coming.  
  
"Hey, Sanzo?" Goku's voice, meant to be soft, but it came out incredibly loud in the darkness.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you think we can rest tomorrow?" The question was tentative; Goku knew it was rare that Sanzo allowed them to pause on their endless push West. Sanzo was a long time answering, and Goku had thought the monk had decided to ignore him, or had fallen asleep.  
  
"...Just tomorrow."  
  
5-13-04 (Actually finished months ago. Just posted today x.x) 


	4. Spring

Spring

Hakkai's Story

Disclaimer: Does not belong to me!

Dedicated to Robert

The thing about driving was that there was always something new. Granted, the new things weren't always exciting, and Hakkai had seen enough sand to last him his entire life. But the point wasn't that there was sand (and lots of it) but the knowledge that there was something beyond that sand. Hakkai knew he could take the journey West a thousand times over, and each time it would be different. However, Hakkai was currently hoping just to survive this trip.

Hakkai had not always known how to drive. It was one of those things that was just thrust upon him, and he picked it up because he had to. Hakuryuu was a ready teacher and helper—after all, the little dragon didn't want to be crashed into things anymore than Hakkai did. He'd had plenty of time to practice, though, and Hakkai now considered himself something of an expert. It was perhaps egotistical of him, but Hakkai felt he had claims to that right.

It was finally spring, and Hakkai was relieved. The winters were always hardest, and Hakkai wasn't entirely fond of snow. During those short days of winter, Hakkai could feel Gonou just a shadow of a step behind him. It would be easy to succumb. Hakkai and his pains would be gone. But then Goku was ask him to teach something, or Gojyo would say one of those things that kept Hakkai grounded, and Sanzo would say something snide, or get into trouble and need healing, and Hakkai knew it wasn't his place to leave. Hakkai was a teacher first and foremost, and he could not deny that to Goku. Gojyo was his best friend, and Hakkai couldn't abandon his friend. Sanzo was his responsibility and his duty, and he couldn't leave that behind. And, so, Hakkai would eternally be tied to Hakkai, and Gonou always remained little more than a shadow, grown larger in the pale sunlight of winter.

But she was also there, also just a step behind. And sometimes Hakkai was jealous of what his shadow had that he could not.

There was a change in the air, and the Cherry Blossoms were finally breaking out on the trees. There were a thousand different shades of pink, and together, they created a strange, shifting cloud of petals. Storm clouds gathered in the distance, as spring was wont to throw storms around, as if trying to shed all remnants of winter.

There was something fundamentally different about spring rains. As a rule, Hakkai didn't care for rain, but he wouldn't allow it to dig into his bones, the way it did to Sanzo. Sanzo fancied himself emotionless and walled, but a week in his presence revealed he wasn't. Sanzo's problem wasn't that he wasn't emotionless, but that he had too much emotion—and hated himself for it.

It had not been so very long since her death, and it had been all of Hakkai's life.

As far as he knew, he didn't have a penny to his name. The fact wasn't particularly upsetting, as Sanzo had his golden card, accepted everywhere. Money had never been much of a concern to him, and he never had had much of it. It worked out well, he supposed. He had considered himself rich when he was a teacher, but that wasn't because of the salary.

There were days when it hurt a lot still, and days when it didn't hurt at all. He wasn't sure which he liked better. He was frightened that if he stopped hurting, it meant she was becoming less important. He didn't want that to happen—they had gone through so much together, and she had meant so much to him, that for her to just fade away…

…hurt almost as much as the knowledge of her being gone.

And he couldn't help but hurt sometimes, if that girl had the same color hair, or that one had the eyes. All it would take was the faintest of smells, and he'd be hit hard by some vivid memory. And it would hurt, and then he would be scared, because he had forgotten that memory before, and it was only that smell that had brought it back.

Memories of her were like the raindrops, glittering, and just as quickly leaving. He couldn't remember what her voice sounded like anymore. He couldn't remember her laughter, and had forgotten most of the movements that were unique to her. He couldn't remember the specifics of most conversations. The further they went west, and the more that time passed, the less he was left with. Already he was left with only the repeated mantras that he told himself almost every day. She held the spoon like that; she used to smile at him that certain way, twisting his heart in his chest.

"Hey, Hakkai, it looks like it's going to rain." Goku said, leaning forward. Hakkai forced a smile onto his face. He knew when his soul began to grow too dark, and now was one of those times. He nodded.

"I know, Goku."

"Are we going to get to a town soon, do you think?"

"If we're lucky." Hakkai said, simultaneously with Sanzo's "No." Goku shifted, frowning.

"I'm hungry, and we haven't stayed in a town for nights!" He whined.

"We'll get there if we can." Hakkai promised with a sigh. He glanced in his rearview mirror, and Gonou stared back at him. He gasped and averted his eyes back to the road. The important thing was to set goals—that tree with the odd branches, that lake in the distance, lined with Cherry Blossoms. He had to give himself reasons to move forward—places to achieve. "Well, then, shall we drive in the rain, or stay here for the night?" Hakkai asked with a smile when they reached the shores of the lake. It was dark, reflecting the sky, but the clouds, though black, remained untouched by flashes of lightning.

"By a lake? It's only wetter." Gojyo grumbled.

"We're not swimming! Are we?" Goku asked, bouncing in his seat a little at the thought of finally getting out. Hakkai laughed.

"Only if you want to."

They unpacked their supplies—somewhere along the way, Sanzo had finally broken down, and they'd purchased two tents. ("Four people in one tent," Sanzo explained, "means that at least three people will be unable to sleep." And then a pointed look at Goku.) They divided up as always—Hakkai and Gojyo, The Monkey and Sanzo. On days when Sanzo was particularly irritable, Goku was assigned to Gojyo's tent, and Hakkai would quietly take his place beside Sanzo.

They got a fire going just before the rain began. Sprinkles at first but as it became heavier; they were resigned to eat lukewarm canned food. Goku was fine with that—as long as he could have extras. One glance at Sanzo's face, and Hakkai knew he would be spending the evening with Sanzo, dealing with his brooding man. Hakkai caught Goku's eyes, but the boy shook his head minutely, and Hakkai was once again struck at how beyond his years Goku could be sometimes.

That night, the rain fell in soft patters against the canvass of their tents. As Hakkai slept, he remembered. Pulled into the threads of dreams and memory, he was Gonou. He was a teacher, happy in his innocence. Her soft fingers touched his face, a wan smile gracing his features. He took her into his arms.

"You are dead!" He sobbed. "I love you!" And a thousand other things he wished he had told her while she was alive. He begged her forgiveness, whispering "I'm sorry's" in a mantra—not for what he had done, but because of what he hadn't. His promised trip to the oceans, the hopes for a child—all the things that were lost to eternity's sad grasp of could've beens. He brought a shaky hand over his eyes, his sorrow swallowing him.

And her soft hand clasped in his became a rough grasp on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hakkai! Wake up! You're dreaming!" Hakkai woke with a gasp, staring into the worried eyes of Gojyo. He smiled weakly.

"It was only ever dreams," He said. "She is dead, and I am lost." He said with a hitch, bringing his hand over his eyes in a mirror of his dream self.

"_He_ is dead, and you are here, and so am I." Gojyo said quietly. Hakkai looked at him, his mouth in a thin, unsure line. Finally he relaxed in Gojyo's grip, allowing himself to be pulled into a tight grasp.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The End

This story has been three years in the making. It is dedicated my friend Robert, who meant very much to me, and who died these four years ago. This series of stories were the first step I consciously took for moving through his death. 'Spring' has been half written for as many years, but for a long time, writing this was too painful. I've added an ending, but I left the beginning largely untouched. Those were my feelings and my pain when I wrote it, and they are important since I feel Hakkai probably feels like that, in his worst moments. The Journey to the West, for the Saiyuki boys, is as much a salve and healing for their pains as it is about conquering the evil that waits them at the end of the journey.

Unlike most of my stories, I have not had this edited. It is my most personal. I have revised bits when I occasionally visit this, and undoubtedly, I will revisit it more later.

I ended with Springs, because it is the most hopeful of the seasons.

Anyway, I know it's been a long time, but I hope that anyone that stumbles across this enjoys it.

For those of you who are fans from A Thousands Deaths—I have good news to report! The next chapter is finished, in its editing stages, and the chapter of that is more than half done. 

-K. Firefly

8/13/07


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